Power Play
by mimithenumberon
Summary: "Despite himself, FDR couldn't help a rush running through his veins though in his mind it was Tuck who had him pinned like a butterfly on display. Speaking of...FDR's eyes darted to the corner which his partner was supposed to round and... Tuck was standing right there." Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M, VOYEURISM! Hope you like and please review X3 ENJOY! XD


**Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M, VOYEURISM, Bad Language, Some Violence**

**This was a request by TickleneezerMMPR so all credits for the idea go to her. XD Hopefully my contribution (that is the writing) lives up to her expectations. (Here's to hope! Cheers!) I should also mention there a slight interaction (nothing more than a steamy kiss) between FDR and my OC. (Just to spice things up a bit X3)**

**NB: I nearly forgot to mention this... silly me. The BOLD WRITING mean the characters are speaking in Russian. The **NORMAL WRITING** means we're back to English. Just so u don't get confused. XD **

**I hope you guys like it and please leave a review if u can. I will appreciate it very very very much! O3O ENJOY! **

**Also, I do NOT own This Mean War or any of the characters (except Leo and the Russian baddies) **

_**Power Play **_

FDR glanced at the unconscious guard before he resumed dragging his near-naked body to the nearest vacant room. He hoped nobody would barge in, at least not in the near future. He dropped the body on the floor, wincing slightly at the sack-of-potatoes like thud it made. He felt a little, just a little sorry, for the chap... Not sorry enough to stop from knocking him out with a well-placed punch but sorry none-the-less. Perks of the job... He shook his head and the last of his stray guilt wandered off. He'd never been one to dwell on things for too long, a thing which Tuck made sure to remind him off every damn day.

He smirked when thoughts of his partner wormed their way inside his mind. He did the last button on his newly stolen guard uniform and exited in the deserted hallway. For such an important base the security was very slack, not that FDR was complaining. He straightened his back and assumed a serious don't-mess-with-me-sine-I'm-on-a-very-important-task face before beginning to make his way towards the agreed rendezvous.

The plan was simple, well...Nothing with them was ever simple, but it was as simple as possible under the circumstances. Casimir Demidov was their intended target and the big bad wolf of the whole compound. They'd been keeping an eye on him for week and the newest intelligence told them of a possible nuclear threat. It seemed Casimir was eager to get himself thrown in a jail and they sent the best of the best to make sure that happened. Their mission was to apprehend Casimir and confiscate his weapons factory. Simple enough so far.

The tricky part was infiltrating said factory, which was sure to be swarming with guards, and get to the baddie before he realized what was happening. Under no circumstances were they to incite a violent counter-attack. FDR couldn't help scoffing at that. Like, since when did they NOT make a mess?! Madness! Fortunately, unlike himself, Tuck was a strategist and he devised a plan which, if it worked, would solve most of their problems and FDR may still get a chance to make a mess yet. More perks of the job.

Tuck staged a scenario in which Casimir caught a mole amongst their midst, after having spent over three weeks getting a job in the factory, and that mole was himself. If there was one way to get someone talking it was by making them feel secure and what better way was there than handing oneself up like a sacrificial lamb for slaughter. It was amazing how chatty bad guys became when they thought they held all the cards. Capturing Casimir was Tuck's end of the deal and FDR was in charge of the other half.

FDR did a mental recap and ticked the boxes as he went along. Infiltrate base using underground tunnels? Check. Reach the ground floor undetected? Check. Knock a guard out and steal his uniform? Definitely check. Meeting Tuck at the agreed pre-established point? In the process of being checked. Once at that point he was to keep a look-out until Tuck secured the higher base and met him. Basically he was just a guard dog in this one but he didn't really mind, for once. He knew it was only the calm before the storm and the prognosis definitely promised a storm.

His steps echoed in the absolute silence, the sound sounding so much louder than usual. He'd only met one other guard on the way and, Tuck having thought of this eventuality as well, he spoke the only sentence he knew in Russian. Languages were Tuck's thing...

'**Gas leak. The maintenance is coming.**' The body-builder, because that guy's physique would have made the Hulk think twice, gave him an intimidating look but didn't say anything. Re-directing his eyes in front of him, FDR continued his journey, feeling the dark eyes drill holes in his back. What was with him?! FDR wasn't easily scared but he was fairly certain that gorilla would literally wipe the floor with his mangled corpse if he gave even a hint of having just lied. No pressure.

When he finally turned a corner and left the guard's imminent line of sight, a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding left his lips. The rest of the way looked clear and the pressure of being caught lessened and lessened until FDR reached the metaphorical X on the map. It was just at the intersection between two corridors and if memory served correctly, and he hoped it did, Tuck was set to meet him in, he checked his watch, ten minutes. At the same time a team would be ready to storm the compound, taking the guards by surprise and ending the mission. FDR glanced along the corridors but there weren't any signs of alarm yet. Tuck was probably still playing the captured victim card.

Deciding to abandon his role playing for a moment, FDR leaned against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a split second, letting his mind wander. He thought of Tuck and their relationship, the one which progressed beyond the status of simple friendship a month ago. He thought of the Brit and barely held back the small, but powerful, pang of fear he felt whenever the other man was off on his own in some perilous situation. He knew it was Tuck's job to usually worry about him but, contrary to most expectations, he worried too and wasn't quite as aloof and careless as everyone seemed to think.

'**I don't think daydreaming was in the job description, even if you look this good doing it.**' FDR's eyes flew open and he silently cursed his own carelessness. He stared wide-eyed at the other Russian guard standing a few feet from him. How could he miss the sound of approaching steps?! The man was young, as young as himself, with dirty blonde hair combed back neatly and eyes as green as freshly cut glass. For a split second he was distracted by how handsome the enemy was but then he remembered where he was and what was at stake and panic twisted his guts into tight knots. However he was a master at masking his emotions and he plastered an easy smile across his lips as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be without the shadow of a doubt. He must have done something right because a moment later the guard also smiled and took another step towards him.

'**So do you have a name or will I just have to call you Beauty? Mine is Leonid but you can call me Leo.**' FDR recognised that tone of voice. The guy was a charmer! Hell, he'd used that same tone on countless girls before and it always worked... But what exactly was this guy trying to charm from him? It was in times like those that he cursed him own stupidity for not learning a plethora of languages like Tuck...

'**Um...Gas leak. The maintenance is coming.**' The guard named Leo chuckled and FDR smiled shyly, feeling like the guy left out of a joke but laughing anyway to mask his insecurity. It wasn't a nice feeling... He wondered how much longer before Tuck turned that stupid corner and he'd be free to simply knock the man out, though he did seem like a friendly fellow. Maybe a little too friendly, judging by how close he was getting to FDR.

'**I see. You're the shy type. There's no need to be. You're a very pretty man and I'm almost certain you're not free but then again I've been wrong before...**' Leo was asking him something, that much he was able to decipher easily. FDR raked his brain for no in Russian but he only remembered yes. Well, it was a fifty/fifty chance either way and he only hoped he wasn't agreeing to something compromising.

'**Yes?...**'

'**Yes, as in your free?**' WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS MAN ASKING HIM?! FDR was just about ready to scream but he kept his smile and offered a hesitant nod. Immediately the guard's smile turned into a wide grin and he relaxed. It seemed he'd said something to please the man and that was okay as long as he didn't blow the whistle on him. It would be really screw up the mission when they were so close to succeeding...

'**Oh that's fantastic and surprising if I'm being completely honest. What sort of idiot would pass up such a pretty man?**' Leo was definitely invading his personal space and FDR's last doubt was erased. The guy was coming on to him...And judging from the encouraged look in his eyes he'd just agreed to it. Did he agree to a date? Or was it something more intimate? '_Oh hell FDR, what did you get yourself into this time?_' But his self-reproaching was interrupted when the stranger continued to talk in that strong accent of his and saying absolutely nothing to FDR. '_**I'm not a jealous lover, just so you know. I don't mind sharing but-**_' The panic inside FDR intensified when he realized the other wasn't planning on keeping quiet anytime soon and, maybe it was just paranoia, but he was certain there were approaching footsteps from further down the corridor. So he did the first thing which came to mind...

He grasped the guard's collar and pulled him into a heated kiss, crushing their lips together with fervour. This sort of attack always worked when it came to scrambling someone's brains out and he prayed his 'talent' won't abandon him now. In seconds he felt himself being pressed into the wall and the other body spreading him flush against the vertical surface. He gasped and Leo's clearly experienced tongue quickly darted inside his mouth, mapping it out like a trained cartographer. Despite himself, FDR couldn't help a rush running through his veins though in his mind it was Tuck who had him pinned like a butterfly on display.

Speaking of...FDR's eyes darted to the corner which his partner was supposed to round and... Tuck was standing right there. Lady Fate was in the mood to make him suffer it seemed and the bitch was doing a fantastic job so far. He tried to push against Leo's chest but the blonde was far too into the kiss to allow that. In a flash his fingers were locked around FDR's wrists and the agent's eyes fluttered closed at the sheer intensity of the act. Okay, the man was an amazing kisser. It didn't help with his current situation but he had to give credit where credit was due...

'**What the hell do you think you're doing kissing someone else's man?!**' Leonid only then realized Tuck was present, when he was a step away, and as soon as he parted his and FDR's lips his vision exploded in a hundred twinkling stars. Tuck watched the man drop to the ground, his clenched fist still outstretched before he turned to FDR. The other agent couldn't look guiltier if he tried. He refused to meet Tuck's eyes and his fingers wouldn't stop fidgeting.

'Mind explaining what that little show was all about?' FDR recognised Tuck's angry tone. The silent sort of anger where his voice would drop to an almost grown and it was scary as fuck. He considered waving the whole thing off with a smirk and a shrug but then thought better. Tuck looked about ready to fire a few rounds into his chest and he didn't fancy turning into a watering can anytime soon.

'I panicked. I was just distracting him. I mean...The guy wouldn't shut up and I didn't want to kill him because he seemed like a friendly chap, so...I kissed him instead.' He did shrug, his shoulders acting independently of his brain. Tuck looked about ready to explode and his nostrils flared in rage. The charging bull seeing red sort of rage.

'Oh yeah? He seemed _friendly _to you, did he? A little too friendly if you ask me mate. And...What the bloody hell sort of excuse is that?! You don't want to kill him so you kiss him instead? What kind of fucked up logic is that?!' FDR felt himself bristle as well. He'd never been especially smart when it came to confrontations, especially confrontations with Tuck, and he was stubborn as hell. He wasn't about to just sit there and take the, admittedly deserved, rant.

'What gives? I did what I thought was right! Where were you anyway? It's way past _ten minutes_.' He said the last part in a thick British accent, mocking Tuck in a way he knew hurt. The guy still didn't understand what was so damn demeaning about being British, especially when it came to matters of sex.

'I was a little bit busy getting the mission done!' To emphasise his point he pointed at a darkening bruise stretching across his right cheek. There was also a deep cut across his left temple and his bottom lip was bleeding. He'd clearly been interrogated quite harshly by Casimir's men, possibly even Casimir himself.

'Well I was doing the same thing!' FDR's sympathy for his partner's injuries was drowned in his seething anger which mostly streamed from guilt.

'Oh yeah, I saw that. Next time we infiltrate a brothel I know the top man for the job!' At this point they were freely shouting at each other, their hands working automatically to load their guns.

'Are you calling me a slut?!' Yeah, he'd been called that before and it was not exactly a lie...But logic wasn't a factor in the current equation.

'Evidence would suggest that mate!' The alarm rang shrilly around them, signalling the mobilizing of the waiting team. Shots rang from both sides and the two began making their way towards the line of fire.

'Fuck you!' FDR emptied the last of his clip into an armed Russian soldier, aiming for the broad chest. He recognised the gorilla from before just before his corpse hit the ground. The bigger they are the harder they fall indeed.

'You'd like that wouldn't you!?' Tuck sent another two men to their graves, one of their stray bullets grazing his bruised cheek and making him wince. He missed the look of alarm FDR sent his way before he masked the caring with the veil of anger once more and scowled at Tuck instead.

The whole operation, after the team swarmed the surprised guards, took less than fifteen minutes. They found Casimir Demidov tied and gagged in the interrogation room and his three personal guards knocked out cold, just how Tuck left them. The key to the weapons storage was also in Tuck's possession, after having endured hours of mindless bragging from the Russian villain. That had been the true torture, not the physical abuse. All in all, a great success and everyone was happy. Everyone except the two heroes themselves...

* * *

The rest of the day was clean-up and it was the part which FDR hated most. The part where they had to bag the evidence and drag the bad guys away and interrogate them and the paperwork...He was certain Satan himself put paperwork on earth just to make him miserable. Holy pickle he hated paperwork! Usually Tuck would take pity on him and do most of his work as well... The Brit really didn't seem to mind the endless scribbling of notes and FDR certainly didn't mind being freed of his plight.

He glanced in the direction of his partner's desk but Tuck's gaze didn't rise to meet his. He looked like he was focused on his work but FDR knew he was aware of being watched. Any agent worth his salt could assess when he was being watched and Tuck was one of the most intuitive of the lot. FDR unconsciously began moving the untouched sheets of paper around the desk, something he always did when he was nervous. Tuck hadn't spoken a word to him ever since their cutting verbal battle even though he'd made several attempts to apologise. Each time the other just turned away and walked off. It was all the more baffling since Tuck was supposed to be the 'adult' in their relationship and he'd never been the type to bear grudges. Yes, he was a jealous lover but even that hadn't really been such a major worry before. He'd always paid FDR back for flirting with exceptionally rough sex later that night and fucked him until he couldn't move a muscle. Ironically, this type of punishment only made him flirted in front of Tuck more... But he'd never given him such a prolonged silent treatment before and FDR didn't know what to do.

'Tuck?' Nothing. The other's eyes didn't even waver in their movement, glancing over each word in front of them attentively. 'Come on man, I already said I was sorry. What else do you want me to do?' But silence was his only reply, though he did spot a moment's pause in Tuck's moving gaze. Oh for heaven's sake! He couldn't believe Tuck was still pissed off about that little kiss. He remembered the way Leo's knee moved in between his thighs and the way his tongue pushed against his and reconsidered calling the kiss 'little'. Still, it was nothing serious and there was no reason for Tuck to behave the way he was.

With a scowl, FDR rose to his feet and grabbed his jacket. Two could play that game. If Tuck wanted to be angry and alone then who was he to stay in his way? He resolved to head on home and flop in the couch while watching whatever was on TV while eating something extremely delicious and just as unhealthy. The sure cure to any ailment of the heart. It was only after he rounded the edge of the work desk that Tuck's eyes rose from the fields of white and black.

'And where are you going?' FDR felt a spark of fresh indignation at the patronising tone. Like he wasn't the one acting like a petulant child!

'Who me? Oh nowhere. I just thought I'd go and check up on Leo.' He knew it was stupid to probe at Tuck's fresh wounds but he couldn't help himself. Immediately the other man's expression darkened.

'Who's Leo?' FDR screamed at himself to stop but the words were out of his mouth before he finished his mental warning.

'Oh you remember Leo, or Leonid. You knocked him out after all. Poor guy. I think I might just pay him a conjugal visit since he was quite the kisser. I wonder if he's as good in other departments too.' He didn't mean any of it of course but he was far too angry at Tuck for giving him the cold shoulder the whole day. When Tuck jumped to his feet so suddenly the chair behind him clattered to the ground he realized just how foolish his mistake really was. Instead of letting Tuck cool down a little further he'd thrown fuel on the dying fire and judging from the Brit's glare the inferno was once more unleashed.

FDR legs were rooted and he couldn't so much as take a step back before Tuck reached him and his powerful hands, hands capable of so easily taking a life and saving a hundred, closed around his biceps in vice-like grips. He pulled FDR close to him and for a second he thought Tuck would shake him like a rag doll but the other man just looked deeply into his eyes as if searching for the truth. In all his years FDR had never felt as powerless as he did in his partner's grip. Not only powerless in the physical sense, because he'd been powerless at the hands of enemies before, enemies with big guns and sharp knives. Oh no, he felt like an open book and Tuck was easily flicking through the pages.

'Well let's go pay him a visit then.' A strange smile stretched Tuck's lips and FDR felt every alarm bell go off simultaneously. Whatever that smile symbolised it wasn't good, for him. Definitely not good.

'What do you mean? I wasn't serious. Tuck, where are we going?' But he was back to the cold shoulder treatment. Tuck simple lead him, his fingers digging harshly into his skin, towards the interrogation rooms. He hadn't told FDR this, because he'd refused to speak with him the whole day, but after they were done with the paper work they were supposed to question one more guy. The file sheet said his name was Leonid Mikheyev but that hadn't meant anything until FDR's addition on the subject. Of course it had to be the same guy... Lady Fate was at it again but Tuck wasn't in the mood to be played.

He practically kicked the door open and watched with amusement as Leo all but jumped out of his own skin. He pushed FDR inside the room, not hard enough for him to stumble, and closed the door again, this time locking it. The other two watched him with weary eyes, both sensing something was about to happen but neither able to name that something. FDR's eyes grew wide when Tuck pulled the cable free from the camera in the corner of the room. They only ever did this when they were about to get extra rough during one of their interrogations and the evidence could be considered as criminal. Sometimes it was necessary to get results and most, if not all, of the times the criminals deserved way worse. But surely Leo wasn't one of them... He hadn't read his profile sheet but he'd been a simple security guard much like he'd pretended to be. There was no way the man had any high level information worthy of a good beating. What was Tuck thinking?!

'Tuck? What are you doing?' FDR looked expectantly at his partner but the man just gave him that uncharacteristically cool smile once more. It wasn't exactly cold but it lacked the sunny warmth of his usual demeanour.

'**Leonid Mikheyev, correct? Or do you prefer being called Leo?**' FDR was left to glance from one man to the other, unable to understand anything past the familiar name. Now he was defiantly the guy intentionally left out of the joke and it still didn't feel any better.

'**Only my friends call me Leo and you are no friend of mine.**' The blonde narrowed his eyes at Tuck. His hands were cuffed together behind his back. He would have loved to launch a punch, just one, at the man who was so smugly standing in front of him but the bonds were tight enough to dig into his flesh.

'**Oh that's a shame. But **_**he**_** is one right? A friend I mean.**' Tuck indicated subtly at FDR who missed the gesture entirely but a moment later he was looking into Leo's eyes and the question was clear as day across his face. Were they talking about him?! He threw Tuck a dirty glare but the other didn't acknowledge him.

'**Ah yes. The pretty guard whom I haven't seen before. I should have known there was something off the moment I spotted your lover. You are lovers aren't you? If I remember correctly that's what you said before things went a little fuzzy?**' Leo smirked at Tuck and the agent tensed a little. He hated the way the guard's eyes travelled across FDR's body, like he could see right through his clothes and was very pleased with the sight.

'**Your memory works just fine.**' The prisoner gave a short laugh and Tuck took a threatening step towards the table separating the agents from the sitting man, ready to punch him again just for good measure.

'What's going on? Are you going to tell me anything or do I just stand here looking pretty?' FDR really hated feeling so left-out. He was a curious, trouble maker by nature and being left out of the fun was the worst possible form of punishment. Once again he wondered what Tuck was planning. And once again he arrived to the same conclusion. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

'**Problems in paradise? I'm only asking because your boy over there was very quick to jump into another's arms. I've had my fair share of lovers but never one quite so eager. Guess you're doing something wrong.**' FDR watched as Tuck eyes practically turned to slits and he shot Leo a warning look. Whatever he said he had to stop or his partner was sure to make minced meat out of him. At least they weren't armed...

'**He was distracting you so I could escape and drag your sorry ass here. After which it's jail time for you buddy. Next time take care what people you agree to guard.**' It was Leo's turn to narrow his eyes. The two simply burned holes into each other for a while FDR was too weary to break the silence. The tension was thick enough to feel like a physical entity and the last thing he wanted was to put himself on their radars.

'**Your lover doesn't look all that pleased to be left out of our chat. I take it he doesn't speak Russian. Why bring him along?**' Tuck's lips curved into a knowing smile and Leo arched a questioning eyebrow. The British agent finally turned to FDR and he took a step back, surprised to be noticed at all.

'Wha-?' But he never finished the question. FDR had enough time to widen his eyes before he felt one of Tuck's hands on his hip and another pulling on the back of his head and their lips locked together like they did so many times before. Despite his shock, he felt himself immediately beginning to melt into the other's touch and his jaw slackened, granting Tuck's tongue free access. Leo's kiss had been good but Tuck had committed every single one of FDR's weaknesses to memory and he was very quick to use this knowledge to his advantage.

The hand pressing against FDR's head racked his scalp and he felt a shudder travel down his spine. Then his hair was slightly tugged and he moaned into the kiss, loving the burn, and his idle hands sprang into action. He forgot about Leo entirely as he eagerly ripped at Tuck's buttons hating the damn things. He swallowed the British agent's smirk and allowed himself to be led backwards until the desk pressed against his thighs. He was forced to pull his fingers from their tasks and press his palms flat against the wood behind him to prevent himself from falling backwards. Tuck moved his lips along the angle of his jaw and down his exposed throat, his own fingers getting rid of the last button on his light blue shirt. Those same fingers explored the freshly exposed skin, loving how every time he touched a weak spot FDR's entire body shivered expectantly.

FDR lost himself into the feel of Tuck's lips devouring his throat, the teeth sinking into his skin and marking him possessively. His legs opened willingly and Tuck stepped closer, their lower bodies pressed together and producing some much needed friction. But suddenly FDR was pulled back to his feet and next thing he knew his palms were once more pressed flat against the desk but this time he was facing a wide eyed Russian prisoner and he felt his cheeks turn ten shades darker. He tried to push back from the table but Tuck was having none of that. He pressed his body against FDR's, the two frames fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle, and his lips resumed their attack on his neck, this time slaughtering his nape with breath-taking pleasure. His neck had always been a week spot and Tuck always gave it the attention it craved.

The Brit's hands continued to rake over his stomach and chest, the thumbs tracing lazy circles around the dusky nipples before pressing against them and extracting a lovely moan from FDR's larynx. Somehow the act of being watched only made him more responsive as opposed to self-conscious. FDR whispered his name and Tuck ground their hips together approvingly. The hand which had been caressing the skin between abdomen and stomach moved further south and the clever fingers make quick work of the trouser zip. Fingertips came into contact with a fine forest of curls before reaching the prize standing proudly to attention. FDR bucked into the hand so hard he shook the entire table.

'Patience was never one of your virtues mate.' Tuck's breath danced across FDR's ear and his tongue licked the cartilage before he bit on it. FDR could only meow in agreement and he lost just a little more control of his voice box when Tuck's hand began to stroke his member, easily adapting a pleasant rhythm.

Tuck's other hand moved to the nape of FDR's neck and clawed its way along the curve of his spine, feeling each ridge individually before reaching the hem of the suit trousers. One powerful thug was all it took and FDR's rare was exposed to the elements, his underwear having been discarded at the same time as the trousers. His shirt was dragged down his shoulders so Tuck could latch his lips onto his shoulder blade while grinding harder against him. When the fingers around his member withdrew FDR actually whined, something he rarely did since he was such a stubborn s.o.b., but Tuck placed a reassuring kiss onto his right shoulder and he knew it was only the start of something so much better. He bit his lower lip hard enough to taste the irony aroma of blood when Tuck's pre-cum coated digits moved to his entrance and circled the ring of muscles.

When the first finger was pushed inside, FDR's mouth dropped open and a soft gasp was the only nose which managed to make it past his lips. His body became accustomed to the intrusion in record time, having done this dance with Tuck numerous times before, and he moaned wantonly when another two digits joined the first almost simultaneously. He felt himself being stretched to the limits and he sighed in contentment, but then the experienced fingers hooked and changed their angle and the bundle of nerves which broke all hell loose was hit and the loudest moan yet tore from FDR's throat. His fingers clawed at the desk, the nails scraping against the wood, as Tuck continued to abuse the magic spot inside him, burying his fingers all the way to the knuckles inside his partner's heat. However it wasn't long before neither was content with only that. FDR didn't whine this time when Tuck withdrew.

'You're very eager today mate. You're practically begging for me to fuck you with your hips raised like that and your legs opened.' FDR couldn't help it. He loved it when Tuck talked dirty, though he usually had to make him extra jealous for that to happen, and bit his lip again. His eyes were tightly shut, having chosen to concentrate on the sensations sweeping through his body without any distractions. Suddenly, Tuck's hand wound around his throat and pulled his head back, his back arching in a beautiful display of dexterity, and his eyes were forced open. He could feel the Brit's lips moving against the skin of his cheek as he growled his orders in a dangerously low voice. 'I want you to keep your eyes open and look at your dear Leo while I fuck you senseless. I want you to yell my name and make it clear who you belong to.'

FDR's eyes fell to meet Leo's, which were so full blown with arousal they were nearly pitch black. Reality hit FDR like a freight train. The reality of having been watched the entire time while he spiralled lower and lower in a madness only Tuck's lips and fingers were able to summon. He pushed back, with the intent to back away from the table and hide from Leo's starved gaze, but Tuck kept him firmly in place. His escape attempt was punished with an extra powerful bite along the jutting bone of his shoulder blade and he could feel a thin river of blood trickle down his back right before the other agent's finger smeared it across the canvas of his skin. FDR considered trying to back away once more but then Tuck moved his hips, grinding his member against his rear and his mind became a clean slate.

'Tuck!...' It was a plea, that much was crystal clear, but for what was a mystery. The only thing he could say with absolute certainty was that it didn't involve the word stop.

'That's right. Keep calling my name.' And he did. He did when Tuck rolled his hips and buried himself inside his heat with one powerful thrust. He did when he was ready and desperate for his partner to begin his long awaited final attack. He did when the rhythm became steady and each pound was powerful enough to rattle the entire desk, filling the room with the screech of metal legs scraping harshly against hard ground. Tuck's movement became so hectic he felt the power of his supporting arms leave him and FDR's head fell heavily against the wooden surface. Fingers tangled in his hair and pulled at his strands until he managed to rise up again, Tuck's order still ringing clear in his ears. His eyes didn't flutter closed once or dart away from the petrified blonde watching his every move. If he reached, even a little, he'd be able to brush his fingers against Leo's cheek but he knew that was taboo. As if reading his thoughts and agreeing with him, Tuck became even more feral.

'Tuck!' It was his final warning before FDR felt that familiar burst inside him, the one which seemed to seep every ounce of energy from his body and steal every last bit of oxygen from his heaving lungs. This time when he collapsed across the table Tuck didn't pull him back up, his own completion too close to ignore. FDR was too stated and lost in a world of lazy pleasure to do much more than moan softly at the continuous thrusts until he felt the other's release burn deep inside him, laying claim to him in an undisputable way. A moment later he felt the Brit's breath stepping along his cooling back and a gentle kiss was placed on the centre of his spine, just before the snaking collection of disks reached the neck. It was the softest of gestures but it was enough to send ripples running all over FDR's body, ripples which whispered echoes of love, the circles growing in diameter and strength with every passing second.

'**And that, Leonid, is why you'll never be able to touch him. He's mine and I'm his.**' As if the Russian gibberish suddenly made sense to him, FDR pushed an approving moan past his tired lips.

* * *

**TA-DAH! I do feel a little bad for Leo though...So I'll spill the beans on his faith. They don't find any criminal evidence on him, nothing to send him to jail, though Tuck does try his hardest, so he only gets a month of civil service and he's free. XD He straightens up after this though and becomes a bouncer at a club which FDR is actually quite fond of visiting. Needless to say Tuck is anything but happy about this turn of events...Though Leo never made another pass at FDR since he got Tuck's message loud and clear. All's well that ends well ey? **

**I hope you liked it and if u can, please don't be shy about those reviews. X3 **

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


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